


i tried to warn you when you were a child (not to get lost in the wild)

by fiveohfive



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canonical Character Death, Faerie Peter Parker, Gen, Human Tony Stark, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Minor Character Death, Other, Platonic Soulmates, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 23:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19328239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveohfive/pseuds/fiveohfive
Summary: In which Peter Parker is a faerie who wants to re-remember his own dark past, and Tony Stark a human who won’t stop running from his.





	i tried to warn you when you were a child (not to get lost in the wild)

Do not interfere with mortal matters.

That was the first rule that Pàdair was taught. Standing above the Earthly Realm, staring into its murky waters. “Why do we not interfere, dadai?” He would ask, curiosity blinding as the small faerie leaned forward, wings twitching with excitement.

Risteard would let out a hearty sigh, tugging at the collar of Pàdair’s cloak, tugging him backwards. “Their realm is too different from ours, a Mhic. You will learn that the Fae that hunt there bring back nothing but bad luck.”

He was never satisfied with the answer given to him, but now, twelve years later, Pàdair knew better than most he should have listened to his athair.

For not even a moon after his athair had warned him, he wandered back through the forbidden paths, to reach súl na bhflaitheas. A long rat scurried before him, but he walked on resolutely.

There was something so satisfying about doing the forbidden, he thought, as he slid down the bank, gently fluttering his beautiful wings to cushion the fall. Just a look, he had whispered, as he leaned over-

Pàdair fell.

He remembered little of the actual journey, the path between the Verdant Realm and Earth was a blur of sounds, sights- and of course, his own _screaming_ —

“Woah.”

He blinked blearily, vision swarming and a head full of cotton. “ _Dia Dhuit_ ?” It took a couple seconds to register the fact that whatever he was laying on, was definitely not his bed at home.

“What language is that— Why do you have wings?”

“ _An féidir leat a bheith ciúin le do thoil?_ ” Pàdair barked out in response, not wanting to attempt to translate when it felt like a mer had stuck it’s trident through his brain.

“You know, I can’t translate, but I’m gonna take a guess and say that was you telling me, in some form, to shut-up.”

When the fae could raise his head without feeling like he could vomit, Pàdair squinted at the shape in front of him. A mortal was kneeled beside him, with slicked back brown locks and curious, dark eyes.

“What are you?” The human breathed, it’s eyes greedily fixated on Pàdair’s wings. It was something that the fae was not used to, as his tawny brown wings were not very popular with the other faeries, they were actually considered quite plain.

Pàdair reached out a hand, tracing the tip of his finger along the human’s soft clothing, the other leaning into his soft touch. There was something quite eretheal about the human, and he finally understood how changelings came about.

“My name is Tony Stark,” It chirped, “—do you even speak english?” Pàdair shifted, draping himself over it’s lap. The human, no, _Tony_ , giggled in response, tucking an arm around the faerie and leaning back slightly. “Yes. What—“ Frowning, he slurred a sentence out as best as he could, “— what. . . Gender?”

“Gender?” Tony looked lost, “What?”

Pàdair scowled at the human, an embarrassed flush spreading across his face, “No! Wrong— ugh.” He pointed a finger at himself, “Him.” Then a finger at the other, “What do I call you?”

It frowned, tilting its head in confusion before gasping in realisation.

“Oh! I’m a boy— uh, him.” A pause, “Can I touch your wings?” Pàdair nodded, only slightly flinching when he felt a hand land on them.

 _‘Athair is going to kill me,_ ’ He thought gloomily, ‘ If they ever find me.’

They sat there together in a comfortable silence, Pàdair leaning back into the warmth that was Tony's hands.

"Pàdair!"

He launched himself to his feet, throwing back the other boy, Tony grunting and rolling over in the damp grass. Pàdairs athair stood in front of him, anger smoldering in his tawny brown eyes.

"What did I tell you, Pàdair?" Risteard hissed out between gritted teeth, clamping his hand around the younger faes arm, "You could have been killed, you—" He let out a howl of pain, letting go of Pàdair in surprise.

Red wings twitching with surprise, Risteard unclenched his fist, revealing an oozing burn across his palm. Pàdair watched in rising horror as Risteard's eyes zeroed in on Tony, the boy attempting to crawl backwards to escape the seething fae.  
  
"Athair! No!"

“ _Peter_!”

The last thing he remembered was the harsh glint of an iron ring, a terrified scream, and— _flowers_?

 

* * *

 

_**Traitor.** _

 

* * *

 

“The metalmark moth,” Beathan announced, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face as he held up an arm, a rather unusual moth creeping over his arm, “—is the moth that your wings are symbolizing.”

With a frown, Pàdair whipped his worn coat to the side, flexing his wings, “Are you trying to tell me I look like a spider, uncail?” At the ripe age of twelve, he was coming into his final colors— hair _and_ wings.

The chances of him having three colors in his hair was extremely likely, considering the fact that both parents and his uncail had it. _‘Another reason for Flash to tease me,’_ Pàdair thought darkly to himself, eyes tracing the salamander orange and white streaks that swirled Beathan’s head.

Pàdair wasn’t the most popular in his courses; orphaned, too smart for his own good, and the lines of black and gold that was carved into his flesh, glyphs that roughly spelled out ‘IRON’. What it meant, he tried not to dwell on it.

A sharp shove broke him from his own mind, “Take it, kiddo.” Pàdair carefully cupped the metalmark in his hands, watching with awe as it shook its wings, prancing about.

“Did you know. . .” Beathan spoke softly, a look of adoration in his eyes as he gazed at the young faerie, “The metalmark is the only moth species in the Verdant Realm that the acromantula will not eat?”

Pàdair frowned, “Why not?”

“Watch this.”

With a flick of his wrist Beathan summoned a huntsman, lowering his hand so that it could crawl across to Pàdairs palm, where the moth sat. Before the large spider had a chance to move, the moth raised its wings in imitation of a jumping spider, dancing to it’s enemy.

He couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped his chest, “What— Beathan! I can’t dance!”

Focusing, Pàdair dispersed the huntsman back into magic, before sending the moth fleeing into the skies.

It’s wings looked quite beautiful against the dawn, he decided.

“You may not be able to dance, but you will change this world, Pàdair.” Beathen murmured, pulling him into a hug, wrapping his black, orange, and white wings around the two of them. They stood together at the brink of the forest for a few long moments, before Pàdair wriggled out of his uncails embrace, “I’ll race you home!”

The faerie didn’t even need to turn around to see the playful scowl on Beathens face, heavy footsteps thumping behind him as the older fae called, “You minx! That’s cheating!”

By the time the two of them had made it back to the house, both were covered with specks of dirt and loose leaves.

“I hope you didn’t expect a feed straight away,” Maye called out to them, amused. “You two are cleaning yourselves before anything.” The woman stood in the doorway, leaning on the wooden frame.

Pàdair let out a delighted yell, dashing forward and hugging his aintìn before she could let out a protest, “Maye!” She let out a _oomph_ as he crashed into her, wrapping arms around him with an exasperated sigh.  
 

“Welcome home, Pàdair.”

 

_‘Where was I before?’_


End file.
